Chief Sports Columnist, Sydney Morning Herald

A gold medallist lay prone on the track. Sheer relief had, momentarily, eclipsed any sense of jubilation. The roar of the crowd still pounded in the ears.

These Olympics, and these infectiously proud and ebullient home fans, had their Cathy Freeman Moment. But, as their energised athletes perform incredible feats of sporting alchemy, the British triumph never ceases. So they had the moment again. And yet again.

A heptathlete , a long-jumper and, perhaps most heroically, a 10,000 metre runner all winning gold for Great Britain in the main stadium, after Team GB had already won three gold medals elsewhere. A night of such thunderous glory some were declaring it the greatest occasion since the 1966 World Cup - at least for the English portion of the British alliance. A few heretics, caught up in the moment, even wondered if it might have been better than that.

Certainly, it is difficult to imagine the crowd at the old Wembley Stadium made as much noise for the heroics of Bobby Moore and his men as those in the new Olympic arena had for the three modern-day legends. Postwar England was a buttoned-down place. Here, a transformation of the British from the mere suppliers of sport for the gratification of more skilful practitioners, to masters of all sorts of pursuits, is being wildly celebrated. Just weeks after Brad Wiggins had conquered another nation's sporting Everest, the Tour de France.

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Before the Olympics, the burden of supplying the signature moment in the main stadium had been placed squarely on the slender shoulders of heptathlete Jessica Ennis. A woman so tiny in a muscular sport a teammate dubbed her ''the Tadpole''.

If Ennis needed to be reminded of these expectations, she only had to sneak a peek at the massive billboards from which she looks down along the route to the main stadium. Yet, with the equanimity you might expect from an athlete with a psychology degree, the 26-year-old was almost absurdly self-assured. Taking a big lead into the final event, the 800 metres, she ran boldly to the front, fought back when she was passed and did something unusual in a sport where first across the line is not necessarily the victor. She won by winning.

This bold conclusion only incited an already hysterical crowd of 80,000. Cathy Freeman's famous lap of the Sydney Olympic Stadium had created a rolling wall of noise that followed her around the track in a kind of aural Mexican wave. Ennis's was almost as spine-tingling, and more than twice as long. A moment that will never be forgotten.

Like Freeman, Ennis struggled to take it all in.

''There has been so much pressure put on me,'' she said. ''But there has been so much support as well. You never think you are going to get there. It's overwhelming.''

Almost as overwhelming for the crowd as the athletes. During her final race, Ennis had twice run past compatriot Greg Rutherford, who was leading the men's long jump. Rutherford would not be headed. Although, inadvertently, Ennis inspired his closest rival, Australian Mitchell Watt, who made his silver medal winning jump as the crowd cheering for its heroine.

''I just pretended I was British for about 30 seconds,'' Watt said. That thought would once have been anathema for a self-respecting Australian athlete. But, now that it has become patently clear Australians can't beat them, there seems no harm in joining them. If only in the imagination.

Then the moment that topped them all. Having cheered British 10,000 metres star Mo Farah for 24 laps as he battled the usual brigade of East Africans, somehow the crowd found the voice to rise again as he burst clear near the finish. Upon crossing the line, Farah hit himself on the head several times. It was as if he needed to convince himself this was not some incredible dream.

Which, for a crowd now at fever pitch, it was. And is. The greatest night in British athletics. The greatest day in British Olympic history. A mad, far-fetched dream from which no one here wants to wake.

Ennis wept on the podium during the national anthem. Although that was not the tune that encapsulated the feeling of British pride that she, Rutherford and Farah had inspired. Even more emotional was the rousing chorus of Love Is All You Need, with one of its original performers Paul McCartney, and his daughter Stella singing along.

This palpable sense of joy could still be felt in the stadium when word filtered through that Team GB had been eliminated from the soccer tournament by South Korea. Naturally, after losing a penalty shootout. So much has changed about British sport, and perhaps even the British people, during a wild summer of hope and glory. Some things never will.